


pickup lines and coffee grinds

by myicedcoffee



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Oneshot, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, no beta we die like tommy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-19 11:02:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29873682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myicedcoffee/pseuds/myicedcoffee
Summary: Dream loves working at the campus coffee shop because it provides a welcome escape from the constant stress of college.And maybe the cute British boy who keeps coming in to order black coffee has something to do with it, too.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 584





	pickup lines and coffee grinds

**Author's Note:**

> basically i have dnf brainrot and went feral trying to learn about coffee (i dont drink coffee)

If there are two things Dream knows for sure, it’s that one: college is fucking stressful, and two: taking up an extra job at the campus coffee shop was a hundred percent the best way to relieve that stress. Sure, the extra hours make it pretty hard to get in any studying, but he’d take the comforting lull of the music and gentle light streaming through the shop windows over studying any day.

And, if the cute British boy who’s always there during his shifts has something to do with it too, then so be it. 

The first time he’d come into the shop, it’d been raining. He’d scrambled in the door with his sweater pulled over his head, dripping wet and muttering soft curses under his breath. Dream probably should have scolded him for the puddles forming on the coffee shop floor– in fact, that was part of his job– but the miserable look on the boy’s face had made his heart twinge, so instead he’d just offered a sympathetic smile and thrown in an extra bagel with his order.

Every day since then, he’s come into the shop and ordered a black coffee during Dream’s shift. 

And every day, Dream watches curiously as he painstakingly drinks a quarter of it before tossing it in the trash can with a muffled _thunk_.

Finally, curiosity gets the best of him.

Right on time, the soft tinkling of the bell above the door attracts Dream’s attention, and he hastily finishes handing off a hot chocolate to an exhausted looking freshman before sliding over to the register with a smile. 

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite customer. Morning. Wait–” Dream holds up a hand before the boy opens his mouth to order. “Let me guess. A coffee? Black? No cream, no sugar?” 

“Favorite customer, am I? You don’t even know my name,” he teases. 

Dream laughs, moving behind the counter to fill the order as he speaks. “I don’t need to know your name. Knowing your regular order is _arguably_ more important.” 

“Is it? I mean, it’s a pretty simple, _Dream_. Even a monkey could remember that.” 

Dream stops what he’s doing, pausing in the middle of putting a lid on the scorching styrofoam cup to look at the boy. “Wait, how do you know my name?” 

“You have a nametag, dumbass.” 

Oh. Dream looks down at the tag pinned to the front of his apron, and sure enough, his name is printed on it, neat letters contrasting on top of the stark white color. He suppresses the embarrassed flush fighting to creep its way up his neck and onto his face.

“I knew that.” 

“Sure you did.”

Raising an eyebrow, Dream returns to the task at hand, finishing snapping the lid on and sliding it across the counter. “I did. Okay, hey– you know my name, it’s only fair that you tell me yours, right?” 

“George,” he says simply, not bothering to look up as he forks over four one-dollar bills and takes his coffee from Dream’s hand. 

“George,” Dream repeats, testing out the feeling of his mouth forming the single syllable, and smiles. 

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” George calls back over his shoulder as he spins on his heel and takes his usual place at the table in the corner of the shop. Dream’s focus stays on him as he lifts the cup to his lips and takes a sip, immediately making a face and putting it down in favor of fishing his laptop out of the bookbag resting on his lap.

Okay, scratch that– there are _three_ things Dream knows for sure. College is stressful, the campus coffee shop is heaven on earth, and George definitely does not like black coffee.

-

The next time George comes in, Dream is already leaning on the counter and staring expectantly at the door. When it swings open, signalling George’s arrival, Dream quickly hops back and flashes a wide smile at him. George returns the smile, albeit a slightly confused one, and gives him a small wave. 

“Why do you order a black coffee every day?”

George’s eyebrows raise at the sudden question. “Good morning to you too. Uh, because I like it?” 

“No you don’t, I _see_ you throw it away every time you get one,” Dream argues. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on, just order something you actually like. I promise you, nobody in this empty ass coffee shop cares how sophisticated you look when you order a boring drink.” 

George tilts his head, eyes boring into Dream’s as he pretends to consider Dream’s request. “No, I don’t think I will,” he says.

And Dream takes that as a challenge. 

Theoretically, it probably isn’t at all smart to ignore a customer’s order and do whatever the fuck you want. That’s actually the complete opposite of what he learned in training. But–

What are rules made for, if not to be broken?

“Okay, one boring, bitter coffee coming right up,” he says cheerfully, biting back a wheeze when George’s nostrils flare in annoyance across the counter. 

“Your sardonic humor is so amusing. Look, I’m laughing so hard right now. It’s not even that bad, it’s just coffee.”

Dream takes the five dollar bill George had been holding out to him, punching it into the register and hiding a small laugh behind his free hand, then grabs an empty cup and fiddles with it until George looks away.

“Look at you, using big words like _‘sardonic’_ and sounding smart. You might be an actual genius, George, I may have underestimated you,” he teases distractedly as he hurriedly pours two shots of espresso into the foam cup and tops it off with milk. 

George turns his head back towards him, and Dream freezes on his way to pump chocolate syrup into the latte he’d made, holding his breath as George eyes the cup in his hand warily. The second he looks away again, making a point to roll his eyes before doing so, Dream goes back to finishing the mocha and pops a lid on it before sliding it across the counter with the most innocent smile he can muster up.

“One black coffee,” he lies through his teeth, like an idiot. 

An idiot that is a hundred percent going to get fired if he’s wrong about this. 

George gives him a tight-lipped smile, and Dream watches apprehensively as he turns to walk out, stopping in his tracks when he takes a sip. His face lights up, pleasantly surprised, and looks back at Dream with a grateful smile, making his stomach swoop.

Since then, every time George comes in, he orders a black coffee, and Dream makes him something new.

-

The next time Dream makes a brash decision happens about a week after they’d settled into their stubborn new routine, when he’s watching George duck under the awning and close his umbrella with a sour look and decides that he has a small crush on him.

Any normal person with a crush would just ask them out. Rip off the bandaid and either get rejected and move on, or live a happy long life with their dumb coffee house affair– but Dream, as he’s come to fully embrace over the years, is not a normal person. 

And that’s why, when he finds himself sitting at his computer that night googling “coffee pickup lines,” he can’t really say he’s surprised. 

He goes into work the next day with a crumpled paper full of the cheesiest pickup lines he was able to find, and he’ll be damned if he isn’t going to use them. 

“Good morning, George,” he beams, tipping his visor down in George’s direction and smiling even wider when he scoffs at him. 

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” George says, tossing his five dollar bill in the direction of Dream’s face instead of handing it to him. 

Dream fumbles to catch the money, making a face at George while he goes about business as usual, this time making a macchiato. When he’s finished, he searches the jars stacked up next to the register for a pen.

“I work in a coffee shop, how do we not have any pens, oh my God,” he sighs, growing dejected. 

Raising an eyebrow, George digs through his jacket pocket and pulls out a sharpie, handing it to Dream across the counter. 

Dream’s face lights up and he takes it, then quickly turns the cup and scrawls _“Is there something brewing between us ;)”_ on the side before handing it off to George. George immediately turns the cup around to read what he’d written, and scrunches his nose at the words. 

“You wish,” he says, but Dream catches a small smile on his face when he turns away, lighting his face up more than the golden light streaming in through the window. 

So now, every day, Dream writes a pickup line on George’s cup, just to make him smile. 

-

The last time Dream makes an impulsive decision happens on a Tuesday. George had come into the shop the day before, and Dream had caught him continuously glancing back and forth at the pickup line he’d written on his drink that day ( _“I’m soy into you”_ ) with a reserved smile.

George rushes in through the front door of the coffee shop, slowing down when he sees Dream standing behind the counter, and flashes him a sheepish smile.

“Someone’s in a hurry today,” Dream comments, already starting the process of making a cappuccino. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came in here at a perfectly normal speed, you’re probably just really slow or something.”

Dream lets out a small laugh. “Yeah? You’re a few minutes later than usual, I think you were in a hurry. Do you really like seeing me that much, George?” 

Scoffing, George fishes a bill out of his pocket and haphazardly tosses it onto the counter. “You’re the one _memorizing_ the time I come in here every day, Dream. If anything, you love seeing me.”

“You’re the one who comes in here every day.”

“Yeah, for _coffee_.”

“During my shift, at the same time, every day?”

George’s mouth snaps shut, retort dying in his throat, and Dream chuckles while he scribbles _"Careful, this is hot! (But not as hot as you)”_ around the curved edge of the lid. 

“So, why _were_ you later than normal today?” he asks, looking back up at George.

George winces and shakes his head. “Ugh, it’s stupid. I have finals tomorrow and I’ve just been really stressed about them, so I stayed up all night studying. My roommate had to kick me out of our dorm just so I could get a few minutes of fresh air. I’m pretty sure I almost fell asleep twice on my way here.”

“Finals? For what class?”

“Computer science.”

“You’re taking a computer science class?” Dream asks, raising his eyebrows.

Shrugging, George pulls one of his hands out of the pocket of his joggers to stifle a yawn. “It’s my major. Why, are you?”

Dream gives a small shake of his head and sets the cup down onto the counter. “No, but I taught myself how to code when I was in highschool.” He hesitates for a moment, then says, “If you’re still stressed about it, I could maybe help you study? If you want.”

“Wait, could you really? That’d be great, actually. My roommate doesn’t know shit about computers, it’d be nice to have someone who could help,” George says, perking up.

Dream nods, and grabs the cup back up off of the counter, pausing briefly before printing his number as neatly as he can below the hastily written pickup line, then holds it out to George.

George reaches out to take it, his fingers brushing against Dream’s as he tips the cup towards himself to read the new pickup line. His eyebrows raise when he sees Dream’s number, and he looks up at Dream through his lashes before looking back down at the cup with a poorly hidden smile. 

“Thanks. Um, I’ll text you?”

“Perfect. I get off of work around three,” Dream responds, smiling in George’s direction as he turns to hurry back out the door, presumably on his way to cram in as much studying as possible. Which is probably best, because Dream has a tendency to get distracted easily and he isn’t sure how much he’ll actually be able to help George, but he finds himself hoping George gets some rest at some point nonetheless.

-

Dream is sprawled across his bed trying his hardest not to doze off when his phone finally buzzes loudly from its spot on the floor. Immediately, he shoots up, snatching it up and hastily unlocking it.

 **Unknown Number:** _Hi :]_  
**Unknown Number:** _This is George by the way_  
**Unknown Number:** _Lol_

Smiling to himself, Dream changes the contact name before responding.

 **Dream:** _george? sorry i dont know a george_

 **george :]:** _Haha very funny_  
**george :]:** _You’re insufferable I hope you know that_

 **Dream:** _aw george you wound me :(_  
**Dream:** _and here i was thinking you couldnt get any feistier than usual_

 **george :]:** _I regret texting you already. I’ll just study on my own_

 **Dream:** _nooo i didnt mean it im sorry_  
**Dream:** _george come back :(_  
**Dream:** _georgeeeeeeeeeee_  
**Dream:** _:((_

 **george :]:** _You’re so annoying_  
**george :]:** _1709_

Dream furrows his brow, staring at the cryptic text for a few seconds before realizing with a start that it’s a dorm number, and that it’s in the same building as his. 

**Dream:** _wtf u live on the floor below mine_  
**Dream:** _how have i never seen you_

 **george :]:** _I don’t get out much_  
**george :]:** _Are you coming or not_

 **Dream:** _yeah yeah sorry omw_

Dream stuffs his laptop into his bag and slings it over his shoulder, checking his hair in the mirror on the wall and frowning at his minor bedhead before deciding he should probably hurry up. He rushes to lock the door behind him and bounds down the stairs, footsteps echoing through the stairwell as he pulls out his phone to double check the text. 

Scanning the hallway before him, he spots dorm 1709 and is hit with a sudden wave of nerves as he approaches it. The door is covered in miscellaneous stickers, undoubtedly an accumulation of the two roommates’ differing interests, and there’s a whiteboard hung on the wall next to the door with the words _“fuck bitches get money”_ and _“Sapnap stop”_ written underneath a messy drawing of a pair of clout goggles on fire. 

The door flies open, startling Dream, and he turns to see George standing in the doorway expectantly. 

“You’re really loud, did you know that?”

Dream scoffs. “Am not. I’m as quiet as a mouse.”

George moves aside as he talks to let Dream past. “Are too. I bet the RA will be pounding on my door in five minutes asking why I’ve brought a fucking elephant into my dorm.” 

Dream lets out a loud wheeze and drops his bag onto the desk chair, pulling out his laptop and watching as George closes the door and flops onto his messy bed.

“Where’s your roommate?”

George glances at the other side of the room and then up at Dream, pausing in the middle of opening his own laptop. “I think he went to some party across campus, I’m not sure.”

Dream hums, slightly distracted as his eyes roam over the decorations in the room. “So we have the place completely to ourselves?” he says playfully, grinning and meeting George’s gaze. 

“Yeah, we– oh. Yeah, to _study_ , you freak,” George groans, rolling his eyes and booting up his laptop.

Dream raises his eyebrows when George pats the bed next to him. “Are you _sure_ –”

“Dream, get out of my dorm.”

“No, no, joking, I was joking. I was just joking,” Dream says hurriedly, moving to sit down next to George on the bed and settling his laptop in his lap. “So, what have you got?”

The two work through practice strings of code for around an hour, with Dream peering over George’s shoulder as they meticulously comb through looking for errors. Eventually, Dream grows restless, throwing head head back and groaning dramatically.

“Dream, if you’re bored, you can go home. You’re the one who wanted to help me, I won’t hold you here,” George tells him, but Dream just shakes his head.

“No, I don’t wanna leave. I wanna stay here with you, I think I just need a break or something. My eyes feel like they’re about to fall out of my skull.”

George smiles in spite of himself and he moves away from the laptop, stretching his arms above his head with a sigh. “You’re probably right. Where’d you learn to code, anyway?”

“I told you, I taught myself.”

“No, I mean, like, why? And how.”

Shrugging, Dream leans back against the wall and absentmindedly fidgets with a loose string on the hem of George’s hoodie, not noticing the way George’s gaze softens as he watches.

“A lot of YouTube and Skillshare, and because– okay, actually, wait. This is gonna sound stupid.” 

“I don’t mind stupid. After all, I’ve dealt with you for the past month, haven’t I?”

Dream’s eyes flicker up to George’s face as he feigns hurt before refocusing on the stray string. “Hey, ouch. But, yeah, so, it was because I, like, played a lot of Minecraft? And I couldn’t find a mod specific enough for this one idea I had and I ended up getting really frustrated so I just... taught myself how to code, I guess. I coded a plugin for what I wanted and ended up actually enjoying it so I just kept learning.”

George stares at him with a peculiar look on his face. “That’s... actually really impressive. Stupid, definitely, but impressive. So why aren’t you taking any computer science classes, then?”

“I’m an English major. Coding’s fun, but it isn’t, like, what I want to do with my life, I don’t think. I really enjoy reading and writing so it’s what I’m sticking to.”

George looks like he’s debating something for a moment, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times before he finally speaks up. “Do you still play Minecraft?”

“Oh yeah, all the time. I mean, it’s harder when classes are going on but in my free time I do,” Dream responds. 

“Do you maybe want to play Minecraft with me?”

Dream looks up at him now, letting go of the thread as a wide smile spreads across his face. “Wait, do you play Minecraft too? Oh my God, were those _your_ Minecraft stickers on the door?”

“Asshole, don’t make fun of my Minecraft stickers,” George mutters, attempting to shove Dream’s shoulder but ultimately failing since his shoulder is already against the wall. 

“I’m not making fun of them, promise. I think they’re cool. Do you wanna play right now?”

Nodding, George closes out of the tabs they’d been on and starts Minecraft. “Yeah, we’ve studied enough. I’m not really that nervous about it anymore, surprisingly.” 

“Aw, George, did me and my superior coding skills relieve all your stress? That’s adorable,” Dream teases as he boots up Minecraft on his own laptop.

Scoffing, George creates a new world and rolls his eyes. “Ugh, you were actually being nice for a second, can we go back to that?”

“Nope, sorry Georgie, you’re stuck with me.”

“ _Georgie?_ You’re so annoying.”

Dream turns to him with a smile and scrunches his nose. “Yeah, but you love it.”

“And I have no idea why,” George retorts, punctuating his sentence by hitting Dream’s character and screaming when Dream runs after him, relentlessly landing hits and laughing uncontrollably.

Eventually, they both fall into a ravine and die, so they decide to call a truce and work together to beat the game instead. While they’re gathering wood, Dream speaks up, glancing back and forth between George and his screen.

“So, uh, you’re British, right?”

“No, Dream, I’m French,” George deadpans as he places a crafting table and goes still.

“Pfft, okay, just thought I’d ask. So what brought you to America?”

“Well, obviously not the men.”

Dream dramatically places a hand over his heart, feigning hurt once again as he speaks. “Ouch, that sucks, because I have a thing for British guys.”

“Obviously. You’ve been writing pickup lines on all of my drinks,” George snorts, then throws a set of wooden tools down in front of Dream.

“Well, are they working?” Dream asks as he picks up the tools, sneaking up and down to show his gratitude and earning a soft laugh from George. 

“No, I think they’re stupid. A for effort, though,” he says, but him and Dream both know he secretly enjoys them, and that’s enough for Dream. 

The two play for a while longer, stopping when they get to the Nether because George had happened to glance at the time and realized it was nearing nine p.m., and figured it was probably best for Dream to get home and let George get some sleep before his finals.

“Text me when you get back safe,” George calls behind him as he leaves.

Dream tosses a sarcastic _“okay, mom”_ at him, but pulls out his phone as soon as he steps into his room, tossing his bag aside and plopping down onto his bed as he types.

 **Dream:** _got upstairs safely_  
**Dream:** _ra lectured me on safety though :((_

 **george :]:** _Safety????_

 **Dream:** _ok wait not like that_  
**Dream:** _whos the freak now_

 **george :]:** _Still you. So what did you mean_

 **Dream:** _you know how he is. hates people being out late_  
**Dream:** _thinks its unsafe or whatever so he LECTURED me on it_  
**Dream:** _wait fuck you were gonna go to sleep werent you_  
**Dream:** _goodnight george_

 **george :]:** _Night. See you tomorrow_

Dream smiles at his screen, wondering how he managed to get lucky enough to become friends with George, and soon his eyes grow heavy and he drifts off to sleep.

\- 

George doesn’t come into the coffee shop again until Friday morning, and even though they’d been texting every day, Dream is still vaguely worried about him. Obviously, it’s stupid, and George is fine, but every time the chime of the bell indicates the door opening, he finds his shoulders slumping in disappointment every time it isn’t George.

Today, he turns his head toward the door as it opens, expecting another annoying group of juniors, and immediately perks up when he sees a familiar head of brown hair ducking through the doorway and sluggishly walking up to the counter.

“George! Hi! Oh, dude, you look like shit, what happened?” Dream says, eyeing the dark bags under George’s eyes and the way his shoulders are hunched in on themselves. 

“Wow, thanks. Um, sorry I haven’t come by in a couple days. I wanted to but my roommate is sick and I’ve been stuck taking care of him,” George mumbles, searching his jacket pocket for his money. 

Dream automatically grabs a cup and starts making George’s drink on autopilot, deciding on something with plenty of caffeine. “Don’t apologize, it’s fine. I kind of figured you were busy since your answers to my texts were, like, all two hours apart. Did you seriously just abandon your sick roommate to come see me?”

“I abandoned my sick roommate to come get coffee,” George corrects. He hesitates for a moment, then says, “Hey, you said you get off early today, right?”

Sparing a glance at the clock on the wall, Dream nods and slides the finished drink across the counter, shaking his head when George tries to pay for it. “This one’s on me. I’m off in five minutes, why do you ask?”

“Do you have plans?”

“I do not,” Dream responds, raising an eyebrow. 

“Do you want to come over and hang out?”

Dream’s heart skips a beat at the idea of George being the one to invite him over, and he smiles. “Sure, just give me a few minutes to clean up.”

-

When the two arrive at George’s dorm, they’re immediately greeted by a loud noise from his roommate’s side.

“Oh my God, is that Dream?”

George shoots a warning glare in his direction. “Sapnap, shut up right now or I swear I will stop bringing you food.”

“I’m not gonna shut up, you’re so _sweaty_.” Sapnap pauses to direct his attention to Dream before continuing. “I have to hear about you all the time, dude. George is always going _‘oh, the cute barista from the coffee shop’_ this and _‘Sapnap, do you think he's flirting with me_ that, and I have to listen to it, because I’m stuck here.”

Dream stifles a wheeze with his hand and turns to George with a grin. “You talk about me?”

“Oh my God. Sapnap, you suck, go back to sleep,” he says, pulling a hand out of his pocket to rub his eyes.

Sapnap turns over in his bed, grumbling, and George moves to settle onto his own bed, tugging Dream after him by the wrist. Dream watches him as he snuggles into his hoodie and reaches for the remote, turning on the TV at the foot of his bed. Once he’s decided on a movie, he looks up at Dream, making a face.

“Sit down, dumbass.”

Dream realizes with a start that he’s still standing up, and quickly drops down onto the bed next to George, being careful not to get too close. “Sorry, I kinda zoned out.”

Giving a small shrug, George scoots closer to Dream and hooks one of his ankles over Dream’s leg as he watches the movie, not noticing the way Dream’s face flushes at the movement. He leans into Dream’s side, and eventually drops his head onto his shoulder, and Dream is no longer paying attention to the movie playing in front of them. Instead, he’s watching George intently, his eyes roaming over the messy hair sat atop his head and admiring the freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose. Abruptly, George lifts his head up to face him, startling Dream.

“Are you gonna kiss me or not?”

Dream’s eyes widen as he chokes on air.

“Uh,” he says, intelligently. “What?”

“Oh my God. Dream, you’ve been flirting with me since we _met_. You’re so obvious about it, no way you’re scared now.”

“Hang on, I’m not _obvious_ about anything,” Dream argues, and his stomach twists when George’s gaze slips down to his lips. 

“So you _don’t_ want me to do this?”

Dream doesn’t have time to respond before George is leaning up, his arm sliding around Dream’s waist, and he’s pressing their lips together. 

The kiss is soft and unsure at first, but their movements become more certain when Dream lifts his hand to cup George’s cheek, pulling him in as close as possible and relishing in the warmth of his smooth skin. George follows the movements, bringing his own free hand up and placing it on Dream’s wrist, gently swiping his thumb back and forth across the base of Dream’s. 

When they pull away, Dream presses his forehead against George’s, savoring the way their shallow breaths mingle together between them and the soft shine in George’s eyes.

“You’re so stupid,” George mumbles, a giddy smile gracing his face.

Dream hums and presses a kiss to the top of George’s head. “And you love me for it.”

**Author's Note:**

> one of my friends tried to explain to me in depth what a cold brew was and i tried. i really did. but i don't understand coffee and i cried looking at a coffee chart. guys please every trace of sanity i had went out the window while writing this
> 
> all jokes aside, comments r incredibly appreciated (constructive criticism included) [:


End file.
